Not so normal murder
by dramionecaskett
Summary: Castle and Beckett's new adventure


**A/N : i don't own castle.**

 **CHAPTER 1**

Kate Beckett hated the traffic lights, she absolutely loathed them. Why do they have to last so long EVEN when there is no traffic? The one she waited for at the 84th was taking forever to change. She had an awful start. She couldn't sleep the day before as she was wrapping up some paperwork and just when she went into dreamland- at 4 AM... her phone rang indicating an early murder. This was going to be a LONG day for Beckett. Her day only became worse since then, she had broken her vase in the morning while dressing... her gas ran out in her car. And now the traffic lights. She used the interlude to peel back the lid of her coffee to see if it was drinking temperature yet. The cheap white plastic cracked, and she ended up holding half the lid with the other half still seated on the cup. Beckett cursed aloud and chucked the useless half on the passenger-side floor mat. Just as she was about to take a sip, desperately needing a caffeine jolt to lift her morning fog, a horn honked behind her. The light had finally gone green and she spilled all her coffee in her slacks. Of course. She was already late for work. Everyone from the M.E to C.S.U had arrived and there she was...LATE! Detective Beckett is never late. Well, today was an exception. After what felt like an eternity of driving, she arrived at the crime scene.

She got out of her car and went to work. Detective Beckett ducked under the yellow tape and proceeded into a house which was the crime scene to join her two detectives – Kevin Ryan and Havier Esposito. They had already been working on the scene and greeter her. "Morning Beckett!" they said almost in unison.

Esposito looked at her and said, "I'd offer you a coffee, but I see you've already worn yours."

"Hilarious. You should host your own morning show," she said. "What do we have here?" Beckett made her own visual survey as Ryan filled her in on the vic. She was a brit, around 30-35 years, dressed in workers clothes. She had a bullet wound through her head and multiple stabbings in her body. Beckett turned to Lyra Mallory the medical examiner "what are these wounds?" " stabbing by a dagger... Looks like our killer really hated our vic. He made sure that she died by killing her in every way... a 9mm to her head, stabbing her body, and suffocating our vic... the killer made sure that our vic doesn't survive. But I bet the 9mm was our COD.."said Dr. Mallory. "I'll have to take her to the lab for autopsy... we'll know what happened for sure after autopsy." "okay!" said Dec. Beckett ""Any ID?" questioned Beckett. Ryan said, "Negative. No wallet, no ID." "Uniforms are canvassing the block," said Detective Esposito. "Good. Any eyewitnesses?" Esposito said, "Not yet."

"We've set up a check of facing residences to see if anybody saw or heard anything." said Ryan.

She dropped her gaze to him and smiled slightly. "Good." " And where is Castle?" Rick Castle was Beckett's partner in solving crimes. " Castle will be late today.. he has to drop his mom in the airport.

Elizabeth apparently had to leave to Amsterdam today for her college's reunion." Beckett stepped away to take a cell phone call. It was Dispatch reporting an anonymous tip on a home invasion homicide. She made her way to Esposito and Ryan as she talked, and the other two detectives read her body language and started to get ready to roll before she even hung up. Beckett checked the crime scene. Uniforms had started their canvass, and CSU was busy running a sweep. There was nothing more for them to do there at the moment.

"Got another one, fellas." She tore a page off her notebook and handed the address to Esposito . "Follow me. Seventy-eighth"

Beckett got herself ready to meet a new corpse.

The first thing Detective Beckett noticed when she pulled off Amsterdam onto 78th was the quiet. It was just past seven, and the first rays of sun had cleared

the turrets of the Museum of Natural History and were beaming golden light that turned the residential block into a placid cityscape begging to be

captured in a photo. But the serenity was also odd to her.

Where were the blue-and-whites? Where was the ambulance, the yellow tape, and the knot of gawkers? As an investigator, she had grown

accustomed to arriving on scene after the first responders.

Esposito and Ryan reacted, too. She could tell by the way they cleared their coats from their sidearms as they got out of the Roach Coach and then

clocked the surroundings on their walk over to meet her. "This is the right address?" Ryan said without really asking.

Esposito turned a swivel to scope out the homeless guy picking through the uncollected trash for recyclables up at the Columbus end of the street. Other

than that, West 78th was still. "Kind of like being the first one to a party."

"Like you get invited to parties," came the jab from his partner as they approached the brownstone.

Esposito didn't come back at him. The act of stepping onto the curb put an end to the chatter, as if an invisible and unspoken line had been crossed. They

single-filed between a gap somebody had forged in the row of trash bags and refuse, and the two men flanked Detective Beckett when she paused in front

of the next-door brownstone. "The address is the A-unit, so it's that one there," she said in a hushed tone, indicating the garden apartment a half story

below street level. Five granite steps led down from the sidewalk to a small brick patio enclosed by a metal railing trimmed by wooden flower boxes.

Heavy drapes were drawn behind the ornate wrought-iron bars covering the windows. Intricate stone-carved decorative panels were set into the facade

above them. Under the archway created by the stoop stairs leading to the apartment above, the front door stood wide open.

Beckett hand-signaled and led the way to the front door. Her detectives followed in cover mode. Esposito watched the rear flank, and Ryan was an extra

set of eyes for Beckett as she put her hand on her Sig and took the opposite side of the doorway. When she was sure they were in position and set, she

called into the apartment. "NYPD, if there's anyone in there, let's hear it."

They waited and listened. Nothing.

Training and working so long together as a team had made this part routine. Esposito and Ryan fixed eye contact on her. They counted her head nods

to three, drew weapons, and followed her inside in Weaver stances.


End file.
